


always on fire

by Pidonyx



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album)
Genre: Brief Mentions of Graphic Injury, Fluff with Minimal Angst at Worst, M/M, Post-SING (Music Video), THE KILLJOYS ARE NOT MCR, TW for Medical Talk including Narcotics, bcs IK that’s a personal thing for me and other people, idk this is p much just fluff but i’ve been sitting on it for a bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:41:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26079670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pidonyx/pseuds/Pidonyx
Summary: In which we discuss why Party Poison does not like hospitals.
Relationships: Fun Ghoul/Party Poison (Danger Days)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 47





	always on fire

**Author's Note:**

> in a blue moon event i’m posting two fics in one night and that is ONLY because this one has been sitting around mostly finished for a week and i didn’t feel like doing a proper beta so all editing was done by myself — as always that means if you have and grammatical corrections or constructive criticism feel free to drop them in the comments!
> 
> also feel free to come bother me on tumblr @ghostxraven or @ravenxbones
> 
> title is from light up my room by the barenaked ladies

The doctor lets the pair of them back to see Party the moment he’s awake, explaining that they’re very tired and probably going to be disoriented from the anesthetic they were given. Kobra flicks his eyes in Ghoul’s direction, and they share a look, Ghoul’s mouth pinching. Party isn’t going to like that. All the same, he had needed the stitches, needed the medical care from a Zone doctor that Jet couldn’t provide, and sooner than they could’ve gotten them back to the Diner in Four. Kobra’s just mentally preparing himself for the hissy fit that Party is inevitably going to throw once they find out the hospital gave them drugs. The doctor’s finishing up their spiel when Kobra tunes back in, saying, “...and they’ll need to eat something, but they probably won’t be able to keep much down at the moment and they might be confused, so simple foods at most. The nurse brought a tray around, it has some crackers and broth on it.”

Kobra nods along with the rest of them, nudging Ghoul with his hip just to check that he heard what Kobra had missed. Ghoul nods, and Kobra relaxes a little as the doctor steps aside to let them enter the room.

Party is lying in the hospital bed, staring up at the ceiling, crimson hair in a bright nest around their head. He blinks slowly at the two of them as they enter, with their arm limply resting across their stomach. Ghoul takes the chair next to the cot and carefully clasps Party’s hand in his. “Hi,” he murmurs, tone gentle and familiar. “How’re you feeling?”

Party stares at him for a second, blinking slowly again. “Feel okay,” he manages finally. Their voice is quiet, and more than a little slurred. The doctor really hadn’t been kidding about the meds.

“Th’ doc’ said y’ need t’ eat somethin’, alright?” Ghoul says, still in a soft, quiet voice. He’s rubbing a circle on the top of Party’s hand with his thumb. Party makes an unhappy whining sound. Ghoul laughs, the tight lines of stress in his face finally giving way a little for the first time that night since Party got shot. “I know, Pois. ‘S important, though, think y’ could eat a cracker? For me?”

Party’s still giving him a wide-eyed, million-mile stare, but he takes the saltine that Ghoul holds out, fumbling with it a little. They take a tiny bite, chewing and swallowing. “Ow,” he wheezes, frowning and pushing the cracker away down the sheet, leaving a trail of crumbs and salt. “‘T hurts, don’ wanna eat.”

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” Ghoul murmurs, reaching a hand up to push Party’s hair back from their face. Kobra’s torn between wanting to look away and give them a little privacy and not wanting to take his eyes off his sibling, the latter winning out. He leans back against the wall, content to let Ghoul be the one to try to wrangle a drugged, miserable Party Poison into eating something. Ghoul’s still talking softly. “But y’ gotta, okay? Can y’ eat th’ cracker, please?”

Party’s spaced-out look is back, but he’s frowning, brows furrowing. “Did th’ doctor send you? Who ‘re you?”

Ghoul freezes, and Kobra does, too, stiffening. Ghoul shoots him a panicked look over his shoulder, making a helpless gesture. Kobra shrugs, just as lost for what to do. He tries frantically to remember the last few moments of the clap. Did Party hit their head on the way down?

Meanwhile, Party’s still talking. “‘Cause y’re superrr...hot, an’, an’ ‘fter I get...outta here, dollface, you...you an’ me should go...getta drink s’metime, ‘kay, sugar, on me, I’ll pay, okay? Okay, babydoll...? Heyyy, ‘s your name, ‘re you a model ‘r somethin’, huh? Did they send you t’ talk t’ me ‘cause....you’re....” they trail off, seemingly unable to find the word to finish their sentence. “Y’re realll eye candy, ’s anyone ‘ver told y’ that?”

Ghoul’s expression gets caught somewhere between relieved and amused, eyes twinkling when he glances over his shoulder again at Kobra.

“‘N fact,” Party rambles on, head lolling on the pillow, wide eyes still on Ghoul’s face. “Y’ might be th’ prettiest p’rson ‘ve ever seen, y’know that? Like.....woah.”

Ghoul’s mouth is pinched again, but in a way that indicates he’s trying not to laugh. Kobra shakes his head.

“So, so...” Party pauses. “So wh’s y’r name, gorgeous? Huh?”

“My name’s Fun Ghoul,” Ghoul says, carefully lacing their fingers together. “‘M your husband, remember?”

Party’s eyes go comically round, and Ghoul’s sparkle. “No....wait. Y’re..... _my_ husb’nd?”

Ghoul nods, and Party stares up at the ceiling. “Holy shhhit.....” Then he turns his head back to look at Ghoul again. “Really?”

Ghoul laughs, pressing the back of Party’s hand to his cheek where they’re clasped. “Yeah, Pois.”

Party’s staring at him, mouth slightly parted. “How long? Since....since we got married. ‘S ‘t a long time?”

“Two years ‘n October,” Ghoul says, warmly, smiling again when Party’s mouth makes an “o” shape and their eyes go a little unfocused.

“Damn.....damn, baby.....d’ I call you baby?”

Ghoul nods, and Party sloppily points at the beaded cuff on his wrist. “Did I make you that?”

Ghoul nods again, and Party echoes the motion, sinking back into the pillow and resting his arm against his chest. “Holy shit,” he slurs again. Then he slowly raises his left arm, eyes widening when he sees the band on his own wrist. They hold it out in Ghoul’s direction, hand hanging slack. “‘D y’ make me this?”

“Yeah, sweetheart,” Ghoul says softly, running his thumb over the back of Party’s hand again.

Party closes their eyes for a second. “Hit th’ jackpot,” he mumbles. “Damn...” Their eyes flick back open. “...D’ we have kids?”

“Not yet,” Ghoul says. “Been talkin’ about ‘t though. Maybe someday.”

Party takes a moment to consider that, then, very seriously, asks, “‘Ve we kissed yet?”

Ghoul bursts into giggles, burying his face in the edge of the mattress. Party gives Kobra a bewildered look, and Kobra can’t keep the corner of his mouth from twitching up. 

Ghoul slowly sits back up, still grinning, shaking his head. “You’re still comin’ off th’ anesthetic, Pois. Here, eat your cracker.” He deposits the soggy square back into Party’s free hand, closing their fingers around it. “But yeah. We’ve kissed.”

Party takes a petulant bite, considering the cracker in his hand. Their motions are still loose and drugged out. He fumbles bringing it back to his mouth, mumbling around it. “Good, ‘cause, ‘cause y’re th’ prettiest guy ‘ve ev’r seen, y’know, honey?....Y’know?”

“Eat your cracker,” Ghoul says, gently running a hand over Party’s hair. “An’ I think you’ve got that th’ wrong way ‘round.”

_Okay, gag_ _,_ Kobra thinks, as Party’s face lights up like the fucking sun and he gives Ghoul the most delighted, loopy smile they probably can manage.

“You...! Y’shouldn’t say that, sug’r, y’re awf’lly pretty, baby, okay? Okay?”

“Okay,” Ghoul replies amicably. “Kobes, c’mon over. Y’don’t have t’ stand against th’ wall all night.”

Party smiles at Kobra when he walks over to stand next to the bed, and waves with the hand still holding the mostly-eaten cracker. “I know you, y’re m’ brother. Kobes.....Kobes. M’ stomach hurts, Kobra, I wan’ more medicine.” He blinks tiredly again, sinking back into the mattress.

“Okay,” Kobra says, squeezing Party’s wrist gently. “I’ll get th’ nurse t’ come back an’ get you some more, ‘kay?”

“Okay,” Party mumbles, closing his eyes. “‘M gonna go t’ sleep now. But,” he cracks one lid, gesturing aimlessly with his free hand. “But I wan’ you an’, an’ Ghoulie-baby t’ stay, okay?”

“We’ll be here, Pois,” Ghoul says, toying gently with Party’s hair, combing through the tangles with his fingers.

“We’ll stay, P. Don’ worry.”

“‘Kay.” Party’s breathing evens out, face relaxing, and their hand goes limp in Ghoul’s. The moment they’re unconscious, Kobra grins, wide, and Ghoul gives him a reproachful look, even though he’s smiling too.

“You’re never gonna let them live this down, are you?” Ghoul says, quietly so as to not wake Party, but he’s beaming, a sly gleam in his eyes, and there’s a tension in his shoulders that belies the effort it’s taking on his part not to laugh.

“Phoenix Witch, no, were you listenin’ t’ that? Party doesn’t drink alcohol, this is  _the_ most I’m ever gonna have as blackmail.”

“I thought ‘t was kind ‘f sweet,” Ghoul says, still smiling, trailing his fingertips over the back of Party’s knuckles.

Kobra snorts, and they grin at each other. “That’s because you guys ‘re married and you’re a sap. I’m not th’ one with ‘Ghoulie’ tattooed on my arm ‘n my fuckin’ spouse’s handwriting.”

Ghoul grin turns sharp, and he leans forwards in his chair so he can kick Kobra in the shin. “Shut up. You’re one t’ talk, Mr. ‘I-Drag-My-Boyfriend-t’-Every-Race-I-Have-So-I-Can-Show-Him-Off-t’-All-th’-Other-Crash-Queens’. Speakin’ ‘f which...” he trails off, giving Kobra a look, mouth curling at the corner like a question mark.

Kobra tilts his chin up haughtily. “‘M workin’ on it.”

Ghoul lifts a hand in mock surrender. “Jus’ askin’.” His eyes twinkle again. “Hurry up. We’re not gettin’ any younger.”

“You’re twenty-three, you clown,” Kobra retorts, smacking Ghoul on the back of the head. “Y’ can wait a little longer.”

Ghoul’s teasing smirk turns to something more sincere, and he reaches up to squeeze Kobra’s hand. Kobra returns the gesture, and then they lapse into comfortable silence.

At some point a nurse comes by again, to bring a second chair and pain meds for Party, and Ghoul leans on Kobra’s shoulder and promptly falls asleep. Kobra rests his cheek on Ghoul’s hair and, soon enough, feels his eyelids getting heavy too. He falls asleep before the nurse has finished his rounds.

*

Poison wakes up grumpy and in pain and not quite sure where he is. It takes a few moments of looking around to figure out that he’s in a hospital bed, and a few more to remember the clap the night before, which presumably is the reason why his stomach feels like someone tried to remove his guts with a spoon. His hand is warm, and he turns his head to see that it’s because Ghoul is holding it, fingers threaded through his. He smiles when Poison blinks over at him, looking tired and strained, but he squeezes Poison’s hand anyways.

“Hi, baby.” Poison’s voice is scratchy. He swallows and tries again. “Did y’ stay up all night? Y’ shouldn’t ‘ve done that, Ghoulie, ‘m fine.”

“‘S okay, I slept a little bit ‘fter th’ nurse came by with your medicine.” Ghoul’s smile gets a little wider when Poison tugs his hand up to hold it against his chest. “How’re you feeling now?”

“Like shit,” Poison mumbles, closing his eyes. “But ‘m not gonna die ‘r anythin’ so ‘s fine I guess. Where’s Kobes?”

“Went out t’ radio Jet ‘gain. We called home last night, ‘fore they let us in t’ see you, but Kobra wanted t’ give ‘em an update an’ talk t’ Girly.” Gentle fingers start softly brushing his hair back, and Poison pushes up into the touch. “They were worried ‘bout you. I mean. We all were, y’know. ‘M glad you’re okay.”

Ghoul’s voice goes a little wobbly towards the end of his sentence, and Poison opens his eyes, pulling on Ghoul’s arm until he shifts close enough for Poison to press a kiss to his jaw and wrap his arms around Ghoul’s waist. Ghoul gently strokes his hair and squeezes him tight, being careful of his stomach wound, and Poison buries his face in Ghoul’s neck and breathes the comforting smell of sweet oranges under sand and grease and sweat. Poison sighs contentedly, trailing his hand up and down Ghoul’s back. 

“I love you,” he murmurs.

“I love you, too.” Ghoul kisses the top of his head, then pulls away. “Kobes’ll wanna see you now that you’re up, I’ll be right back, okay?”

“‘Kay,” Poison says, quietly, tiredly watching Ghoul disappear through the dingy white door. He’s back almost immediately, though, as promised, with Kobra behind him, and comes back to sit in one of the spare chairs next to Poison’s cot. Poison can feel Ghoul’s hand slip back into his, and he gives it a tiny squeeze, but keeps his eyes on Kobra, who looks similarly exhausted and has one of the transmission radios from the Trans Am in his hand.

Kobra gives him a half-smile, holding the radio up in greeting. His sunglasses are tucked into his shirt collar, so Poison can see his eyes brighten when he smiles back, in contrast with the bags underneath them. 

“Hey, P. Back t’ normal?”

Poison frowns, and Ghoul rolls his eyes in his peripheral. “What d’y’mean?”

Kobra’s smile stretches into a grin. “‘Member last night ‘t all?”

Poison hesitates, brows furrowing. “No,” he says cautiously. “What’d I do?”

“Ask Ghoul,” Kobra says smugly.

Poison shoots Ghoul a look, a little freaked out, and grips his hand tighter. “Did I do somethin’ t’ you las’ night?”

“No! No,” Ghoul says, rubbing his free hand over his face. “Nothin’ bad, Pois, you’re fine, okay? Kobra’s bein’ stupid.”

Poison’s panic fades, but he’s still confused. “But I did do somethin’. Right?”

Ghoul looks up at the ceiling, and his expression is hard to decipher. “They had you on ‘n anesthetic for th’ surgical pr’cedure y’ needed. An’ you kind ‘f forgot who I was, I think.”

Apparently Poison’s expression is more horrified than he thinks, because when Ghoul looks back at him, he looks alarmed and reaches up to cup his cheek. “‘S okay, Pois, alright? ‘S fine. We’re fine.”

Poison clenches his jaw and glares at the sheets over his legs. “‘S not fine, Ghoulie, ‘m sorry, I fuckin’—  _hate_ anesthetic, fuck.”

“Tell ‘m th’ other part,” Kobra says, still looking way too pleased. Poison wishes he could reach far enough to kick him.

“You tell ‘t, since you’re so jazzed ‘bout this whole thing,” Ghoul says, sounding maybe a little frustrated, but also weirdly like there’s a tiny note of amusement in his voice. He’s moved his hand to Poison’s arm, running his thumb back and forth soothingly.

“What’s th’ other part?” Poison asks warily, shooting Kobra a suspicious look.

Kobra raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms, smile not dropping one bit. “Y’ spent th’ whole twenty minutes ‘r so that you were awake flirting. With Ghoul.”

Poison blinks. And scowls. “So? ‘S my husband.”

Ghoul presses his lips together like he’s trying not to laugh. “Y’ asked me for my name, ‘bout thirty times, an’ asked ‘f I was free t’ get a drink with you ‘fter you were discharged. An’ no offense, Pois. But y’ don’ even drink, so.”

Poison makes an indignant noise, and apparently that’s the thing to set them off because Kobra bursts into full-on laughter and even Ghoul, who it seems is chivalrously still trying not to laugh at Poison’s expense, presses his fist to his mouth and looks away, clearly hiding a grin.

Poison crosses his arms and flops grumpily back into the pillow. Ghoul leans in so his lips are right next to his ear, and Poison can hear the smile in his voice when he whispers, “I thought ‘t was cute.” He kisses Poison’s cheekbone, nose nudging gently against his hairline. “Kept tellin’ me how pretty I was. Flatterer.”

“Tha’s true, though, baby, I meant that part,” Poison says earnestly, turning his head so he can just see the blurry brown of Ghoul’s eyes and the faintest impressions of freckles scattered across the bridge of his nose. “Even though I don’ remember sayin’ ‘t, y’ know I think tha’s true. Y’ know you’re beautiful, Ghoulie, don’ you?”

Ghoul huffs, and kisses him, bumping their foreheads together when he pulls away. “I know you think that. An’ that’s wha’s important. ‘Cause I love you very much. Okay?”

Poison frowns, but Ghoul kisses him again, and kissing Ghoul is one of the better things about life in the Zones so Poison’s happy enough to drop the topic for now. Especially when Ghoul angles his head to deepen the kiss, and Poison’s brain does its typical short-circuit and he makes an aborted noise that gets swallowed when he opens his mouth to essentially shove his tongue down Ghoul’s throat.

Kobra pointedly clears his throat and Poison jumps, having forgotten momentarily that he was in the room with them. “Okay!” Poison looks over to see him looking torn between put-out concession and amused exasperation. “You’d think you two would’ve figured out how t’ be considerate ‘f others by this point,” he says, haughtily, but he’s poorly hiding a smile and he shakes his head, dragging a hand through his hair and accidentally loosing a small sandstorm all over the ancient vinyl flooring as a result.

Poison sticks his tongue out at him. “Fuck off, ‘m recoverin’ from bein’ shot, you have t’ be nice t’ me.”

Kobra sticks his tongue out right back, nose scrunching. “Doesn’t mean I have t’ tolerate you an’ Ghoul suckin’ face.”

Ghoul cackles unhelpfully.

Poison rolls his eyes. “C’mere,” he says, and makes grabby hands. Kobra obliges, shuffling into the space between Ghoul’s chair and the wall to give Poison a hug and bump their heads together affectionately.

“Glad y’re feelin’ better,” Kobra says, sincerely this time, and squeezes him once before letting go. “I know ‘t this point ‘s pretty redundant but I’ll say ‘t again: y’ gotta stop gettin’ hurt, P. Gonna give me a heart attack pretty soon.”

“Mmph. Can’t really help ‘t,” Poison grumbles into Kobra’s side, flopping back once he’s let go. “We live in th’ Zones, Kobes. An’ ‘ve had a lot worse.” He doesn’t even need to gesture in the direction of the faded stun scar on his throat for it to be obvious what he means.

“‘Danger prone’,” Kobra says, parroting one of Poison’s favorite expressions, exhaustion creeping back into his tone. “I know.” 

“Jus’ glad you’re safe,” Ghoul says tiredly, leaning into Poison’s shoulder.

Poison hums an acknowledgement, still feeling pretty tired himself. The ache in his stomach is flaring up again, too, even though he hasn’t been awake that long, or moving that much. He thumps his hand loosely against the bed. “Y’ guys can take a nap ‘r somethin’, ‘m not exactly goin’ anywhere. An’ th’ two ‘f you were up an’ down all night.”

Ghoul looks a little dubious, but after exchanging a look with Kobra, seems to acquiesce. “All right,” he mumbles, rubbing the hand not still holding Poison’s over his face. “But I wanna get th’ nurse in here, you’re making that face y’ always do when somethin’ hurts an’ y’ don’ want me t’ know.”

Poison scowls and Ghoul huffs in amusement. “Gotta take th’ meds t’ get better, sunshine.”

Kobra nods blearily. “I’ll get ‘em. Jet an’ Motorbaby’ll be by this afternoon t’ see ya, but we’ve got a bit ‘fore they get here. A nap sounds fuckin’ aces, t’ be honest.”

“Okay,” Poison replies, not really feeling up to an argument. He feels a bit better about the impending pain drugs when Ghoul scoots his chair closer to the edge of the cot so he can lay his head on the pillow next to Poison’s. Poison buries his face in it, Ghoul’s warmth and familiar smell already helping him along the way to sleep.

“Be right back,” Kobra whispers, and tiptoes out of the room, flashing Poison a warm smile as he goes. Poison manages to return it sleepily, before he’s pulled under by the sounds of Ghoul’s gentle breaths in his ear and the steady ticking of the battered clock over the door.


End file.
